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Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The Storm That Changed Me

Hiccup's Point of View

The raid began as they always did—roars in the distance, followed by the cacophony of shouting Vikings and the clash of weapons. The night air was filled with chaos, yet inside our home, everything was eerily still.

I knew this moment would come. I had known for as long as I could remember.

Tonight was the night I lost my mother.

And no matter how much I wanted to stop it, I couldn't.

I was only a baby—barely a year and a half old. I couldn't speak properly, couldn't run, couldn't fight. I was trapped in a body too small, too weak, to do anything but watch the inevitable unfold.

I sat in my small woven basket near my parents' room, wrapped in thick blankets to protect me from the cold. My fingers clutched at a worn piece of leather—a scrap from my father's armor—something familiar to hold onto as the world outside burned.

Then I heard it.

A heavy thud on the roof.

I flinched as the house groaned under the weight of something massive. Dust drifted from the ceiling as wood creaked under the pressure. I barely had time to process it before a deep, resonant roar rumbled through the walls.

Cloudjumper.

He was here.

I knew my parents had heard it too. My father was out fighting, defending the village as he always did, while my mother had run off to try and save the dragons she saw as more than just enemies. But now, they were both undoubtedly running back here—running toward me.

But they were too late.

The roof gave way with a splintering crack.

Dust and debris exploded into the air as Cloudjumper descended, his four wings unfolding like the pages of a book as he landed in front of me. His piercing green eyes swept the room, scanning, searching.

Then they landed on me.

And for a moment, the world stood still.

I froze, my breath catching in my tiny chest. His eyes weren't just those of a beast—they were intelligent, filled with curiosity and something else I couldn't quite name.

I should have been afraid. Any normal baby would have screamed, would have cried at the sight of a dragon tearing into their home. But I wasn't.

Instead, I giggled.

Cloudjumper tilted his head at me, intrigued. I reached out with one small, pudgy hand, and for a second, hesitation flickered in his expression. Then, slowly, he lowered one of his massive claws toward me.

Without fear, without hesitation, I grasped it.

His scales were smooth beneath my fingers, warm despite the night air. I wobbled to my feet, using his claw for balance, and for a few precious moments, it was just the two of us.

A baby and a dragon.

Two creatures who should have been enemies. But we weren't.

Cloudjumper let out a low, rumbling purr. He shifted his wings slightly, making himself smaller, as if he wanted to reassure me.

Somewhere deep in my soul, I knew he had no intention of hurting me. He wasn't a monster. He was something extraordinary.

Then the moment shattered.

"Hiccup!"

My mother's voice, sharp with fear.

I turned just as she burst into the room, axe raised. Her chest was heaving, her eyes wild—until she saw me.

Her breath hitched.

She stopped, her hands trembling, her gaze darting between me and the dragon towering over us.

For a heartbeat, she didn't move.

And neither did Cloudjumper.

They stared at each other, two beings from different worlds, yet bound by something neither of them could explain.

Then my father's voice rang out like a war horn.

"Valka!"

The door crashed open, and Stoick the Vast filled the space like a storm, his presence commanding, his face contorted in disbelief. His eyes flickered to me, then to my mother, then to the dragon.

And in that moment, he made his choice.

The axe flew from his hands.

The sharp blade buried itself into the wooden floor between my mother and Cloudjumper with a heavy thunk.

Cloudjumper roared, his wings snapping open in alarm.

My mother turned, her face torn between fury and sorrow. She opened her mouth, as if to explain, as if to tell him that this wasn't what he thought it was.

But it was too late.

Cloudjumper moved.

In one smooth motion, his massive claws wrapped around my mother, pulling her toward him.

"Stoick! Hiccup!" she cried, her voice cracking as her feet left the ground.

My father lunged, his hand outstretched—but he was too slow.

The Stormcutter beat his wings, sending gusts of wind tearing through the room.

I pushed myself up from where I had fallen, my chin stinging from a fresh cut Cloudjumper's claw had left. Blood trickled down my skin, but I barely noticed it.

I knew what was happening.

I knew I wouldn't see her again for years.

I knew she would vanish into the sky, and I would be left behind.

But knowing didn't make it hurt any less.

I took a deep breath, my tiny lungs straining, and with everything I had, I forced out my first word in this world.

"Mama!"

She turned, her tear-filled eyes locking onto mine.

Love. Pain. Regret.

And then, she was gone.

Cloudjumper carried her into the stormy sky, his massive wings cutting through the night. Her voice faded into the wind, lost among the chaos.

My father stood frozen, his arms still half-raised, as if he could will her back with sheer willpower. His shoulders slumped. His knees buckled slightly.

I had never seen him so broken.

Then, slowly, he turned to me.

For the first time, I saw something in Stoick the Vast that I had never seen before.

Not the unshakable warrior. Not the fearless leader of Berk.

Just a man. A husband who had lost his wife.

A father who had failed to protect his family.

He stepped forward, his heavy hands scooping me up, cradling me against his chest.

"Don't look, lad," he whispered, his voice thick with grief.

But I did.

I watched as the dragon carrying my mother disappeared into the clouds, vanishing into a world I would not see for twenty years.

The rain began to fall, cold and unrelenting.

As my father carried me away from the ruins of our home, his arms wrapped around me like a shield, I buried my face in his chest.

And for the first time, I let myself cry.

Not just for my mother.

But for myself.

For the child who had lost his mother.

For the boy who knew too much.

For the man I would have to become.

That night, I made a vow.

I would grow stronger.

I would endure.

I would become what the world expected me to be—a weakling, an outcast—until the time was right.

And when that time came, they would see.

I would honor my mother's legacy.

I would change this world.

Even if, in the process, I lost myself completely.